


I've come to test the timber of my heart

by blue_fjords



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:04:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_fjords/pseuds/blue_fjords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has some issues to work through after he and Cas get interrupted during a sex curse.  Spoilers through 6x15.  A bit of dub-con in the way that all sex curse fics could be seen as dub-con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've come to test the timber of my heart

Castiel's mouth tasted like rain and spearmint – clean and tingly. _Like we're in a fucking toothpaste commercial,_ Dean thought, and thrust his tongue in deeper. His fingers scrambled around Castiel's waistband, yanking the dress shirt out of the pants so he could touch heated flesh.

He was rewarded with a choked-off moan that he swallowed down. Fuck, even Castiel's moans carried a hint, a taste of night after a thunderstorm. Dean fumbled with Castiel's belt buckle, loosening and tugging until he could slip his hands inside and squeeze, eating the moans like they were raindrops and moonbeams, lightning-toasted morsels tripping down his throat to set a fire in his belly.

_I'm fucking high._

But if he was high, then Castiel was the sky, and he lifted Dean as easily as Dean would lift a feather, fingers gripping Dean's ass as he brought him to the rickety table, the only furniture in the room, and laid him out like a chef would display a feast.

"Mine, mine, mine," he growled, climbing up on the table to straddle Dean's hips, and the Formica top dipped alarmingly.

"I was gonna say that," Dean mumbled. Castiel was too far away, perched on his hips like a bird atop a tree, and he could actually see trees, and starlight, twinkling, twinkling like diamonds in the sky, through the busted roof of the little cottage, Dean's very own Love Shack. He tugged, once, and Castiel fell willingly on top of him, getting the idea halfway down that this would be better without clothes. Dean grunted his approval as naked flesh met his own.

"Cas," he slurred, mouthing along the angel's jawline, his neck, his collarbone, "I want to suck you and fuck you and hear you scream my name. LIKE A BOSS!"

_Holy fuck, so fucking high._

Castiel whimpered and dug his fingers through Dean's hair and rutted against him, his tongue licking every bit of Dean's skin he could reach. The table took up the rocking melody and it sounded like that Radiohead song from when Dean was in some high school and though he normally wouldn't admit to listening to Radiohead, there'd been this girl and she'd had this tongue and she'd loved that song, and God, he was so hard now thinking of Castiel as that song and they just needed to fuck. Right the fuck now. 

Lube. They needed lube.

"Cas!" He tugged on Castiel's hair, liking the way it made tufts through his fingers, liking the way Castiel looked at him when he said his name, so he said it again. "Cas. Cas-Cas-Cas-Cas."

And then he had to kiss him again, but there was something – and then he remembered, as Castiel's leaking cock rubbed against his own. They needed lube.

"Can you get us lube, angel-man? You're my angel." _Hi-iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh._

He didn't even blink when Castiel frowned, held out his hand and a bottle appeared in it.

"Awesome. _You're_ awesome."

There was a step they were missing, somewhere along the way, but it didn't matter because Castiel was staring at him in That Way, even as Dean stumbled off the table, even as their bare feet kissed the dirty hardwood floor, even as Dean dribbled lube over his cock. They were missing something, but Castiel was an angel, a super-powered angel, a fucking general, and he was going to let Dean fuck him and Dean was going to make sure he really, really liked it.

"Turn around," he breathed, and that meant Castiel wasn't staring at him anymore, but Dean could stare at his back and imagine he saw wings. Dean could kiss his neck and get him to moan a low "Dean" that sounded like the rumble of thunder, and Dean could push himself inside, slowly– 

A scream echoed from outside the dilapidated bungalow, a flash of red, and– 

"Holy _fuck_!" Dean yelped, leaping backwards, a truly terrible idea as he fell on his naked ass on the dirty floor. "Fuck, Cas! Put some fucking clothes on! What the fuck's going on here?!"

Holy shit, he was hard, he was _so hard_ , and he'd been about to fuck Cas – _Castiel-Angel-of-the-Lord_ – and oh, shit. Castiel turned on him, fully dressed, and if Dean had been waxing poetic about storm stuff before – and he had been, shit he could remember the whole damn thing now, images crashing into him and doing absolutely nothing to alleviate his embarrassing hard-on – that had been nothing compared to the stormy expression on Castiel's face. Dean swallowed hard. He was about to be smote.

"Dean! Cas! I got it, I got it, are you okay?" Sam burst into the room, breathless. And recoiled sharply at the sight of his naked (and hard) brother. "Jesus, Dean."

"It's not my fucking fault!" he protested. "Will someone toss me my damn clothes?"

There was a woosh, and Dean shut his eyes to protect them from the dust that was kicked up as Castiel fled the scene. He was definitely not closing his eyes to avoid the look on Castiel's face. When he opened them again, he was fully clothed and the angel was gone.

***

The Next Morning

Dean hadn't slept. Each time he closed his eyes, he immediately fell into memories – kissing Castiel, touching Castiel, being bodily lifted by Castiel – all interrupted by the thundercloud expression on Castiel's face.

Sam had wanted to talk about it. Sam was furious on his behalf, on Castiel's behalf, and looked ready to go into a rant on the ethics of sex-inducing enchantments – at least until Dean vomited all over the floor. He was just wondering how quickly Castiel would return to smite his angel-defiling ass when Sam called him over to the door of the cottage and wordlessly pointed to the symbols carved all along its frame.

"What, Sam?" His mouth tasted like puke, his dick ached, and something was screaming in his head that he'd lost Castiel for good and it was all his fault.

"We've seen these symbols before," Sam answered. "Remember that cupid? I asked Cas what happens if the cupid makes a mistake, and he said this symbol here," and he pointed to the one directly over the middle of the door, "ensures that what happens, happens with the consent of the people involved."

Dean scowled and wiped at his mouth with a shaky hand. "Cas ran out like his ass was on fire." He shouldn't have mentioned Castiel's ass, big mistake. "And what about me? I didn't ask for this!"

He hadn't. At all. 

"I know you didn't ask. But at least you and Cas–"

"Don't say it. Come on, it's time to go."

Sam had given him big puppydog eyes all evening, pleading that they discuss Dean's feelings, but Dean had steadfastly ignored him. It had done nothing to prevent a sleepless night.

Dean glanced over at the other bed. Sam was still asleep, having given up on any heart-to-hearts hours ago.

"I am not secretly lusting after Cas," Dean whispered to his brother. "And I'm not fucking in love with him." Sam snored in response.

He could use a shower. He hadn't taken one last night. Because it was late by the time they got back to the motel, _not_ because he had the biggest case of blue balls ever and knew who he'd be imagining if he went and took care of it in the shower. He was totally fine now. _Totally_.

The water was the absolute perfect temperature, the water pressure like a gentle massage. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back in the hot stream. It felt amazing, the heat and pressure working at tense muscles, kissing his skin like Cas had the day before, his tongue on Dean's neck and collarbone and chest. Except it had felt even better than this shower, because instead of his own hand squeezing and stroking himself, Cas had been there and Dean had almost– 

"Fuck!" he grunted, opening his eyes and dropping his cock like it had burned him. It _had_ , it was such a traitor cock, and it was hard again, and dammit, he had to be able to think of someone other than Cas. Cas, who'd been distant and barely there for the past year and a half. He was not going to do this while thinking of _Cas_.

"Lisa," he said experimentally. Nothing happened. "Fuck! Fuck you, Castiel, Angel of the Lord!"

The whoosh of air disturbed the shower curtain, plastering it against his wet skin.

"That is an unusual prayer even for you, Dean."

"Cas!" Dean yelped, slipping slightly in the tub and falling back against the tiles. "Jesus! I'm naked here!"

"I have seen you naked before. And you are hiding behind the curtain now."

"I'm not _hiding_ , I'm trying to take a shower." His heart was still hammering, and he swallowed, willing his cock to forget that Cas was just on the other side of the thin plastic sheet.

"You called for me," Cas said, and was it Dean's imagination, or was his voice especially frosty? "Why, if not for me to come here?"

"I wasn't calling for you, I was swearing at you! You're pissing me off, okay!"

The curtain was yanked aside. Dean yelped again – again! His dignity was never going to recover – and scrambled for a washcloth to hide his erection.

"You are angry with _me_?" Cas growled. "I am not the one who cursed you into fornicating with me!"

"Whoa, _almost_ fornicating. I didn't – I didn't…" His voice trailed off at Cas's glare. It had clearly counted to Cas, despite no orgasms. And now he was thinking about it again. His cock twitched beneath the washcloth, clearly noticeable, even to someone like Cas. Dean stared with rapt fascination as Cas stretched his hand out, his trench coat speckling then darkening from the shower. Someone whimpered, and when Dean figured out it had been him, his arm shot out and he grabbed Cas by the wrist, barely an inch from the washcloth.

"No," he rasped. "I don't _want_ you, Cas," he lied.

Cas went completely still. Shower spray formed droplets in his eyelashes, and the humidity in the bathroom curled his hair slightly. Dean's lips parted – to apologize, kiss him or curse at him again, he couldn't say – but Cas vanished, and Dean was left holding empty air.

And he was still painfully hard. 

***

They didn't see Cas again for another week. An entire week of Dean treating his dick like it was a stranger – no, worse than a stranger, as he'd slept with his fair share of strangers. He only touched it to take a piss, but even that contact left him uncomfortable for an hour or so afterwards. He stole the laptop to research and had to close it after five minutes. Erectile disorders were scarier than the damn Apocalypse.

He got by okay. He wasn't _fully_ hard, just slightly aroused. Occasionally at half-mast. On the third night, he tried to pick up a short, buxom woman with tight blonde curls and brown eyes. That had gone disastrously, though, ending with a lapful of ice water for him and a flouncing retreat from her.

"You sure you ganked that thing right?" Dean asked Sam at the end of the week.

Sam looked up from the motel room table, where he'd spread a diagram he'd made from some of Bobby's notes, something to do with wendigos, Dean could see. "There isn't anything around here to gank, Dean. I'm working on the Manual."

The Manual was the newly re-souled Sam's idea of a Winchester-Singer legacy, a kind of handbook for fighting the supernatural, and normally Dean was supportive of this effort, as it was a great distraction from The Wall. But these were not normal circumstances. Dean flopped onto his back on his bed and flung an arm over his face. This would be easier if he wasn't looking at Sam.

"I meant that thing at the cottage last week. You know. When Cas – you know." He sure as hell wasn't going to say it.

"When I caught you and Cas _in flagrante delicto_?" Sam asked dryly. "Dude, I've been trying not to think about it." 

"I'm not asking you to think about _that_ , I want to know if you fucking destroyed that wannabe cupid sex demon!"

"I got it with the knife, Dean, relax! Come on, it sizzled and died like always. It freed you from whatever spell, right? It's dead!"

Dean didn't answer for a moment. Shit, it sounded like it was good and dead, but how could it be when he was still plagued with thoughts of Cas and even right now his dick was urging him to indulge in a fantasy of Cas, tie loosened, hair mussed, long fingers – a pillow landed on his crotch and he shot up, howling in pain.

"What the fuck, Dean, did you even hear what I said?!"

Fucking Sam had his hands on his hips now, lips pursed and total disregard to Dean's excruciating pain stamped all over his face.

"No, Sammy, I'm too busy dying over here! What'd you do that for? You never do that to another guy! It's the first rule of being a fucking dude!"

Sam stared at him. "It was a fluffy pillow, and it's not like you were – oh my God. You _were_?"

Dean groaned and fell back on the bed again. "That's what I'm saying, Sam. You didn't kill it right."

"Dean, if you've been erect–" Dean grimaced, but Sam ignored him and plowed right on "–for this whole week, you could have a serious medical problem."

"Thanks for your input, Dr. Unsexy, but I'm not an idiot. Mini-Dean hasn't been raring to go all week. More like, has a half tank of gas but nowhere to go."

Sam sat on the opposite bed. "That's disgusting."

"Thanks for your sympathy, jackass pillow thrower."

"I killed that demon."

Dean sighed. "So I should just deal, you think?"

"Dean," and oh shit, Sam was using his reasonable tone, his 'you're a stubborn jerk, but I'm not going to hold it against you' tone. Dean hated that tone. "Do you think Cas is similarly–"

His dick jerked at Cas's name. "I'm sure _Cas_ is fine!" he snarled. "I'm the one in pain here!"

"That demon wanted to be a cupid," Sam continued mercilessly. "If you're feeling this way–"

"Forget I mentioned it." Dean struggled to his feet and hobbled to the bathroom. It hurt, dammit. "I'm absolutely peachy!"

He slammed the door shut behind him and leaned over the sink, trying to catch his breath. After a moment, Sam's feet scuffled closer. "Dean," he said through the door, "I'm going to go to the store and get you something. Okay?"

Dean grunted back. He didn't think he could speak right now anyhow. He heard the motel room door close behind Sam as he was splashing his face with cold water. He was sure Cas was completely unaffected. Cas had gone back to being one hundred percent angel. He didn't feel a damn thing for Dean. No, he didn't feel a damn thing in general. When he met his eyes in the bathroom mirror, Cas was standing behind him.

"What?" he gasped.

"Be quiet," Cas growled, gripping his t-shirt and shoving his back into the bathroom door. Dean's cock went from half-mast to hard and leaking in less than five seconds. And Cas… Cas fucking _watched_ , then calmly unzipped Dean's jeans, ignoring Dean's wince as the tines of the zipper peeled away, as his underwear was unceremoniously pushed down, and took Dean in his hand.

Dean's head thunked against the bathroom door at the first touch, again at the second, and when Cas ran a curious finger over the leaking head, he let out a moan that echoed back to him from the tiled walls, a pornographic surround-sound system. Cas ran his fingers up and down the sensitive flesh and Dean's vision began to black-out. There was a hurt dog in the bathroom with them, whimpering – no, it was his own voice, trying to say Cas's name. His hands clung to Cas's shoulders and Cas shifted minutely closer, his own hand still moving up and down on Dean's dick, inexpertly jerking him off.

But it felt _amazing_ , Cas's strong and nimble fingers questing, pressing and tugging in reaction to each moan that exploded out of Dean's mouth, each babbled string of "Cas-Cas-Cas!"

It was over almost as quickly as it'd begun, no surprise considering, and Dean just leaned forward, burying his face in Cas's neck as the pent-up sexual frustration of the past week came pouring out of him and into Cas's hand.

He was still breathing heavily, clinging to Cas's neck to stay upright, when Cas raised his sticky hand and licked it. Dean's eyes opened wide. _Holy shit_. Dean's come was glistening on Cas's normally dry lips when Dean pulled him in and kissed him with a wide open mouth.

"Cas," he murmured into the kiss, a hum of pleasure, and why the hell had he fought against this before? There was electricity crackling between them, and he wanted more. His tongue tangled with Cas's, tasting himself, tasting Cas, and when he broke the kiss, he wanted nothing but to start it up again. But there was something he should do first. He gave Cas a sated, kind of dopey, he'd admit, smile and gripped Cas's belt buckle.

Cas jerked back and Dean looked him in the eye, gaze sharpening for the first time since their eyes had met in the bathroom mirror. The commanding Cas was gone, replaced by unknowable Cas. Dean's stomach plummeted.

"Don't you – don't you want–" he croaked, but Cas had already disappeared.

***

He had his blanket pulled over his head by the time Sam got back from the store, the universal symbol of 'I don't want to talk about it,' but Sammy was completely lacking in the truly important social skills.

"Dean?" he asked hesitantly. "Why are you in bed at four o'clock?" 

"Feel like shit," he grunted. "Would feel better if you'd shut up and let me sleep."

"Um, how's your little problem?"

"It's _fine_. Completely cured. Now I want to sleep." He punched at his pillow, but Sam ignored the hint, of course.

"Wait, did Cas come by?"

"Cas?" he sat bolt upright, twisting towards his brother, forgetting there were streaks on his cheeks that could be seen as tears in the right light. "You fucking prayed to Cas?"

Sam gaped at him. "I – well, yeah, I know what you said, but I was worried about him! If he was suffering like you–"

"He's a damn Angel of the Lord, Sam! He doesn't _suffer_ like a lowly human!"

"But, uh, then how did you…" Sam's voice trailed off as his cheeks turned red.

"It doesn't matter." Dean turned back to his pillow and burrowed under the covers again. "You can watch TV if you want. I'm going to sleep."

"You want me to wake you for dinner?"

"I'm not hungry."

He knew Sam's eyebrows must be raising, but thankfully, he had finally accepted that Dean really didn't want to talk, and Dean heard him turn the TV on low and settle on the other bed.

So Cas hadn't just been randomly checking up on him. Sam had asked him to come. And Cas had taken care of matters and left again, Dean all healed and no big inconvenience for Cas. Licking his hand had probably meant nothing – just an idle curiosity. He'd probably learned it from that damn pizza man. And the kiss… Dean had initiated the kiss. Cas had been considerate.

It was stupid. This entire week had been a huge heaping pile of stupid, residue from the demon infection-thing that only continued to affect Dean because he was a weak human and not an angel. In the state he'd been in, Dean would've reacted to _anyone_ touching his cock. Cas was just who was there, and never mind that Dean had been thinking about him all week. Cas was an ally, once a friend. Dean would do well to adopt some of Cas's coolness in their future dealings, and forget the impulse that had led to the kiss.

Dean woke up around 8:00 that night. He peered blearily around the room, his nose twitching. Sam had left him a large slice of apple pie on the table, and the smell of it reminded Dean suddenly that he actually _was_ hungry. He stumbled out of bed and lurched towards the table, looking around for his brother.

He spotted him through a crack in the blinds. Sam was in the parking lot, leaning against the Impala (Dean's baby!), talking to Cas (Dean's… something!). Cas stood stiff and alert while Sam talked animatedly, gesturing wildly with his hands.

"Oh, hell no," Dean muttered to himself, and threw open the door. They looked up at him, Sam startled and Cas impassive. He opened his mouth to angrily yell at them for talking about him behind his back, but Cas beat him to the punch.

"Sam and I were discussing your odd behavior," Cas announced. _Great._

"And?" Dean demanded.

"Dean–" Sam started, but Dean was having none of it.

"Shut up, Sam. I wanna hear how _Cas_ thinks I'm acting odd. Well?" He folded his arms across his chest. Cas scowled at him.

"I don't have time for this. I need–"

"To get back to your war in heaven," Dean finished for him. "Go on, Cas, no one's stopping you."

"Dean!" Sam's ass was off the Impala finally, but he was trying to use his height to loom, and only one being had ever made that work on Dean (and he was quite a bit shorter than Sam).

"Dean is right. No one is stopping me." Was it Dean's imagination, or did Cas's stiff posture slump a little at his own words? He didn't have time to decide because in the space of a blinked eye, Cas had disappeared.

***

Sam wasn't talking to him which, as far as Dean was concerned, was all to the good. It was another week after the Resolution of the Blue Balls, and another dingy motel room in another no-name town, before the silence had finally shifted to 'comfortable.' Until it was broken by an angel.

"Right, so there you are, finally. You'll be coming with me now."

Dean drew back from Balthazar's outstretched hand and exchanged a Look with Sam. "What the fuck do you want, Balthazar?"

Sam joined him, fingers gripped around the hilt of Ruby's knife, not that it would be able to harm the angel. Dean had to settle for glaring fiercely. And trying to close his nostrils – along with the 'casual playboy' attire Balthazar had adopted, he'd also gotten his hands on some playboy cologne.

Balthazar arched a brow. "I? I want only the same things you two want – world peace and harsher punishment for parole violators."

Dean had no idea why Sam gave a half-smile at that. "How about you get to the point before I banish your feathery ass?"

"You really need to work on your attitude. You can do that on the way. Come on." Balthazar reached for them again and Dean slapped his hand away. "Fine! I can't believe you don't trust me; you saw I'm working with your dear Cas."

Sam crossed his arms across his chest and gave Balthazar a patented bitchface. "Sending us to an alternate world where we were–" 

"Douches!" Dean interrupted.

"—actors," Sam continued, "may have something to do with it."

"Alright, I can see where you're coming from there. How's this: Cas has got himself captured." Dean's stomach dropped to his toes. He was already turning to the duffle bag as Balthazar kept speaking. "No angel can walk in and get him out, there are powerful wards against the likes of us. But a human could, and should before Raphael shows up to destroy him."

Dean tossed in one of Cas's extra angel knives and the jar of holy oil. They were both staring at him then, but Dean ignored the looks and zipped up the bag.

"Anything else you need, Sammy?" Dean asked, hoisting it over a shoulder.

"Um, no I think you have it covered," Sam said, and now Dean was actively avoiding his brother's eyes. He knew what Sam would be able to see there. But really, couldn't he be worried? Cas had pulled him out of Hell, that type of thing bonded two… beings.

"I'll create a lovely little diversion, and the two of you can just nip inside and grab Cas, yeah?" Balthazar rubbed his hands together briskly. "Yes, I think that is a foolproof plan." He stretched out his arms again, and this time both Dean and Sam submitted willingly to the trip via Angel Express.

Ten minutes later, Sam was still swearing. Dean tried to remember a time Sam had lost it in such a verbose – and colorful! – way, but he was drawing a blank.

Raphael's henchmen had trapped Cas in a Chuck E. Cheese. 

Screaming kids ran pell-mell underfoot, and the Winchesters stuck out like sore thumbs. Thus far, Balthazar's brilliant diversion had failed to coalesce, and the delay was causing the muscles in Dean's back to tie themselves into triple knots. He and Sam had circled the play area, searching for Enochian sigils or anything that looked like it could be a symbol to bind an angel in place. A mother gave them a disapproving frown as Dean scrubbed at a mark on the 'Kids Paint!' wall and her son's lower lip trembled when Sam used his paintbrush to paint over what looked like the reverse of the angel-banishing sigil. Dean backed away, mumbling an apology to the woman for Sam's foul language.

"Sam, I don't like this whole role-reversal thing you've got going on," Dean muttered out of the side of his mouth.

"Kids, Dean! Kids! Whoever has Cas could be possessing little kids!" Sam spit out.

"I know!" Dean snapped back. "But you're not fucking helping!" God, each kid that went tearing by made him think of Ben, and how Lisa had put her foot down when Dean had suggested he get an anti-possession tattoo. Not that that would save him from damn angels.

"Okay," Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay," he repeated. "Cas is obviously not in the play area. We need to check out the kitchen, see if there's a basement."

Dean grunted his assent.

The angels were in the kitchen. Dean and Sam peered in through the round windows in the swinging doors. There'd been three cooks, dead now, lying in little congealed pools of their melted eyes and blood that had leaked out of their ears. Shattered glass from the light fixtures littered the floor. Raphael's angels were unconcerned with collateral damage; three of them as well, which was three too many if Dean and Sam were expected to survive this little rescue mission. Dean craned his neck, willing one of the angels to take a step to her left so he could see… yes, a crumpled trench coat-clad form on the floor.

Dean and Sam ducked back down.

"Well?" Sam whispered.

"I'm thinking," Dean whispered back. They needed Balthazar's damn diversion, and now. It occurred to Dean that they were quite possibly in over their heads. Not that it was a deterrent, but having more information on what they'd be facing would have been a good idea. Per their usual. At least they'd already broken the sigils preventing Cas from leaving. "We just need to make it to Cas," Dean said softly, "and he should be able to mojo us out."

"Brilliant," said a man in a business suit, appearing suddenly between them. "And once you get to your angel lover, we'll explode the heads of every child in this filthy pit." He smirked at Dean before his eyes filled with white light. Dean jerked away, squeezing his eyes shut as the angel died.

"Dean," Sam said in a low voice as the light faded. Dean blinked rapidly. Sam was back at the window, the angel knife still clenched tight in his hand. "I think they felt it."

The fire alarm and sprinklers both went off at that precise moment. Dean knelt swiftly to search the fallen angel for his own blade. By the time he found it, two of the angels from the kitchen had burst out of the swinging doors. He barely got his knife up in time to block a downward thrust from the businesswoman angel who'd been blocking his view of Cas earlier.

He lucked out. Cas would have said something about God or fate. Dean felt lucky. She slipped in the water, unused to making allowances for her human body to deal with such things, and fell on his knife. Dean yanked it out even as the white light was still flooding the hallway and went to his brother's aid, knocking the other angel off-balance enough that Sam was able to get in a thrust to his belly beneath his arms.

They were both panting heavily as the second angel faded. The alarms were still going, and the water from the sprinklers splashed as it hit the linoleum. And just faintly over those sounds Dean could hear the shrieks of children. At least their heads were still on if they were shrieking. They were probably freaked out by the fire alarms, he consoled himself.

The door banged open again, and the final angel marched out, slamming Dean and Sam against the wall with just a flick of his wrist and knocking their knives form their hands. His lip curled in anger and disgust at the sight of the three dead angels in the hallway, and Dean felt his stomach twist. Beside him, Sam let out an "oof." The angel's eyes narrowed, and Dean felt the pressure of his hatred like a vise around his head.

"If you think that's bad for you, imagine what it's doing to the kids?" the angel said in a silky smooth voice. Dean cut his eyes at his brother. Sam's face was turning purple. Dean's vision began to darken, but it looked like the kitchen door was moving again.

He took a big gasping breath as the pressure suddenly vanished and he dropped down the wall to slump on the floor. He blinked rapidly, trying to dispel the afterimage as the last angel glowed white and died with Dean's dropped knife stuck in his ankle.

"Perfect timing, Cas," he croaked. "Cas?"

Cas was on the floor, too. He'd crawled from the kitchen and as Dean watched, horrified, spasms wracked Cas as shimmering bands of black moved up and down his body. 

"Cas!" Dean crawled to him on his hands and knees.

"Dean, be careful!" Sam called to him, but he ignored it and pulled Cas to his chest. Cas shook and shuddered, but hung on.

"Sam, go outside and get Balthazar!" Cas's skin was feverish, his hair curled with sweat and eyes glazed. What the fuck was still attacking him? Dean cradled him closer. "Hurry, Sam!"

Sam gave himself a shake and pushed himself up off the floor, taking off in a stumbling lurch down the hall.

Cas was mumbling in a language Dean didn't know, maybe Enochian, his lips moving against the fabric of Dean's shirt. Dean shifted, trying to give him air, and his hand slid right through one of the shimmering black bands. It dissipated and Cas blinked. Was it just Dean's imagination, or did he look a bit more lucid for a moment? Experimentally, Dean tried grabbing another band. This one put up a bit more of a resistance. Though it shimmered and Dean could see through it, it _felt_ solid, at least until Dean gave it a good tug. Then it faded like the one before. Cas gasped and went rigid in his arms.

"Shit!" Dean swore. "Cas? Should I have left them alone? What the fuck's going on?"

"Oh, now that's _clever_." Balthazar whistled low as he and Sam came running around the corner. "I didn't think Raphael had it in him. Or her now."

"What _is_ it?" Dean's eyes went to his brother's face. He looked winded, but not as if he'd seen dozens of dead kids on his way to fetch Balthazar. So there was that, at least.

"Insurance," Balthazar answered, bending down a bit to peer at the remaining black bands, but careful not to actually touch. "In case Cassie's human allies came for him and got rid of the wards aimed at us angels." 

"And?" Dean asked impatiently. Cas was staring, unblinking, up at the ceiling, utterly frozen.

"You really are an aggravating little man, you know. I'm getting there!" He stood back up and took a step back, never a good sign. Sam agreed.

"Spit it out, Balthazar," he said, his fingers clenching around the hilt of the angel-killing knife he'd retrieved. Balthazar's eyes cut to the knife before flicking back to Cas.

"The black rings are attacking his grace," Balthazar said. "They're supposed to paralyze him. Any angel would be. He can only escape if he forgets he's an angel, essentially tricking the rings into dissipating. But he can't do that unless he cuts out his grace, which he can't do, either, of course."

Dean stared up at him. "The rings started to fade when I touched them."

Balthazar looked startled for a moment. "Truly? You're touching them now and nothing's happening."

Dean frowned. He was still holding Cas, and the black bands were still traveling up his body, passing easily through Dean's arms, albeit a couple fewer than there'd been before. He concentrated briefly on the band creeping towards his right hand, willing it to release Cas. It suddenly felt like a solid weight pressing against his skin.

"This one feels solid!" he exclaimed. "Get the fuck off him," he muttered. The band tried to push forward one more time, then faded away. Cas's body jerked like a puppet on a string, and Balthazar let out a somewhat high-pitched giggle. Dean and Sam both stared at him, Dean's arms tightening around Cas until his body stopped jerking around.

"I'm sorry, it's just – eventually, you will laugh at this situation," Balthazar managed to get out between giggles.

"What's so funny, Balthazar?" Sam asked, crossing his arms and calling on his height to do a proper loom.

"Your brother makes dear Cas feel, oh, how to put it – unlike an angel. Base and human. You catch my drift?" Balthazar winked broadly and Dean felt his face heat up. _Fuck_.

"So… what does that mean?" Sam asked slowly.

"It's getting harder and _harder_ to break those bands, isn't it?" Balthazar asked, smirking at Dean with the use of 'harder,' the douchenozzle. Dean just glared back.

"Wait, Dean, is it?" Sam asked. _Shit_.

"Yeah, Sammy," he answered reluctantly.

"Well, that solves that." Balthazar clapped his hands together. "We need to get out of here pronto before Raphael shows up. I trust Little Dean can go from zero to sixty in ten seconds. You fuck Castiel as quickly as you can, he'll be freed with his grace intact, and we can all leave!"

Dean felt the color leave his face.

"You can't force him to do that!" Sam protested.

"Why not? They both want it. Don't try to tell me your brother hasn't fantasized–" 

"Shut up!" His voice was hoarse. Dean cleared his throat and started again. "Cas doesn't want me. I can't do this if he doesn't want me." He avoided his brother's eyes, but looking down there was Cas. Cas, who was still flushed and sweating and if he'd been conscious, Dean wouldn't be able to hold him in his lap for fear of embarrassing himself.

"Are you stupid?" Balthazar asked in a scathing tone. "It's you he's reacting to! Now get this show on the road before Raphael fries us all crispy!" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of lube. "I always come prepared. Lube up, I'll be at the end of the hall." He threw the packet in Dean's face and sauntered to one end of the hall.

"Dean…" Sam started.

"I don't know, Sam," Dean answered before he could ask a question.

"No, that's not what I was going to say. That night you saw Cas and me talking out by the Impala, he told me," Sam paused to swallow. Dean's heart beat faster. "He said he didn't understand what you wanted. He said you were the only thing he wanted."

Dean stared down at Cas's face. Was it just his imagination, or did an eyelid flutter? "Why didn't you tell me?"

"He asked me not to. He didn't understand what you would offer him, so he ran from you."

Dean sighed. What he was willing to offer. What _was_ he willing to offer? If he did this thing now, and that was it, would Cas still be his friend? Maybe not. But could he offer more than just the physical release? His fingers closed around a black band. It felt solid as iron in his grip and soon it would deliver Cas up to Raphael. Fuck that. The band exploded into dust.

"Go to the other end of the hall, Sammy."

***

He used the trench coat as a mattress. The hallway outside a kitchen in a Chuck E. Cheese was not much of an improvement over the rundown cottage they'd almost fucked in before, but at least this time they had lube. Dean took a moment to undress them despite the imminent arrival of Raphael. Cas's first time, and he wasn't going to have him lying on the floor with his pants bunched around his knees.

The black bands continued to crawl their way up Cas's pale skin, but thankfully they didn't do much to dampen Dean's desire. Cas watched him, his eyes tracking Dean's movements as he shrugged out of his own clothes, fully aware after the last band broke. That helped, too, the heat in Cas's eyes convincing him he was wanted.

"I've never done it quite like this," Dean confessed, voice gruff. He glanced up and down the hall. Sam and Balthazar had disappeared around the corner, thank God, Sam muttering something about making sure the kids were all evacuated. He just hoped no one could hear him. A sheen of amusement appeared in Cas's eyes. "I take it that doesn't bother you."

He had a feeling Cas would have laughed, had he been able to. Dean kicked off his jeans, grabbed the packet of lube Balthazar had tossed him and stretched out on the coat next to Cas.

"Okay, so," he started, "um, I'm going to tear this sucker open, and uh, use some on my fingers here," God, had anyone ever sounded less seductive? "You know what, I'm just going to do it. Less talk, more action, am I right?"

Cas gave him an exasperated look, impressive using just his eyes. Dean huffed a laugh and slipped a shaky, lube-coated finger inside Cas. Cas's eyes widened with shock.

"Sorry," Dean muttered. He was shaking. He hadn't felt this nervous even when he'd been a virgin himself. He just wanted Cas to like this, to not have any regrets.

A black band pressed hard against his wrist, then shattered. Well, then.

Cas moaned.

Dean almost pulled his finger out in surprise. He watched Cas's face carefully as he worked another finger inside, stretching and searching for the – there. Cas's eyelids fluttered and a definite moan escaped his lips as Dean stroked his prostate.

And okay, that was really working for Dean. His breath came faster and faster as he added a third finger. Another black band exploded, and then Cas was pressing back against his fingers and holy shit.

"I need to fuck you now," Dean whispered hoarsely.

"Want you to," Cas mumbled back.

And that clinched it. Cas moaned again when he pulled his fingers out. He hurriedly spread the rest of the lube on his dick and moved even closer to Cas. Cas managed to look impatient and eager, even lying on his side on a stained trench coat with thick black bands moving sluggishly up his body. Dean bit his lip and slid slowly inside.

His brain short-circuited a bit. Everything was hot and tight and pressure and Cas was not quiet about expressing his pleasure. He wasn't worried about Sam overhearing, he'd overheard Dean having sex lots of times, but it seemed like an intrusion on Cas's privacy. One more thing Raphael would have to answer for when Dean got his hands on him. Or her.

Another band faded away.

Dean worked his arms around Cas until he could grip his hip with one hand and start to jerk him off with the other. He almost came himself at the noise Cas made when Dean's fingers came into contact with his dick.

"Fuck, Cas," he grunted. Cas whimpered in response, a high-pitched sound utterly unlike his usual deep growl. Dean slammed into him from behind, pressing his chest to Cas's back and his lips to Cas's neck. The pressure increased significantly around his dick and then Cas was coming in his hand, keening Dean's name, and was there anything more awesome in the world than being treated like a sex god? Complete with black bands exploding like confetti around him. Dean grunted Cas's name as he came, no one could accuse him of not reciprocating.

He came down off the high to the sight of Balthazar rounding the corner.

"Pull out, Dean, Raphael's on his way!" he called, running down the hall. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was still inside Cas, and now Sam was also running towards them. So much for the afterglow.

"Dean," Cas said quietly in his normal growl.

"Yeah, I'm moving." Dean eased himself out, but there was no way he'd be able to run anywhere, and they were sweaty, messy and naked besides. He blinked. No, they were both clothed, and Cas was standing and stretching out his hand to help him get up. You could never tell his coat had just been used as a blanket during sex. Cas himself, though… he looked different. Warmer, maybe.

"And now we fly," Balthazar said.

***

It was three days later, and if Dean had been thinking anything would change in his relationship with Cas, he'd been proven wrong. The war in Heaven consumed all of Cas's spare time. Dean supposed he should be grateful. He didn't know if he could commit, and despite whatever Cas had said to Sam, it didn't seem like he could, either. Still, Dean grew increasingly snappish, until finally Sam stormed off in a huff, telling him to call his boyfriend already, _he_ was taking the Impala and going for a very long drive.

Dean lay on his bed in their motel room and contemplated his navel.

He was freaking out… over a boy. It was like thirty years of karma biting him in the ass. It sucked donkey's balls.

"Well, Cas," he said, sighing. "I hope you're winning this fucking war, wherever you are."

"I'm here, Dean."

He didn't fall off the bed. He had that going for him at least. He sat up, leaning back on the palms of his hands, trying for casual.

"How's it hanging, Cas?"

Cas frowned. "Nothing is hanging. I came here to discuss with you the possibility of repeating our last encounter."

Dean blinked. "Dude, seriously. You came here to discuss fucking?"

Cas nodded. What the hell?

"What about all that shit you told Sam about wanting all I had to offer? Romantic shit like that?" Sometimes he wondered about the filter between his brain and his mouth. Since when did he want romantic shit? Since he fucking pined for a pretty-boy angel, apparently.

"Are you saying that you have more you're willing to offer me?" Cas asked slowly, as if he was choosing his words with some care. Dean gave him a hard look. Oh, fuck, he _was_ choosing his words with some care.

"I'm not going to reject you," Dean said bluntly. "You've seen me at my absolute worst, and if you still want me…" He spread his hands. "You know. You can have me." He flushed a bit.

Cas licked his lips. "All of you?"

It was easy to say now. He _meant_ it. "Yeah."

Cas was on him in a flash. Dean had a split second to think they'd yet to share a kiss they were both participating in, and lucid for, before Cas's lips met his and his tongue insistently pushed inside his mouth. Dean gave back as good as he got, sucking on Cas's tongue and fumbling at the trench coat until it disappeared, along with the rest of their clothes. Dean laughed into the kiss.

"You know, Cas, some people like the act of undressing. It's seductive and shit." He nipped at Cas's jawline, liking the way Cas obligingly stretched his neck out for Dean's teeth and lips.

"Do you want to be seduced?" Cas asked him.

"I'm pretty easy, Cas," Dean admitted, a little distracted. Cas had an amazing collarbone and Dean proceeded to explore it with his tongue.

Cas pushed him down into the mattress and gave him a smoldering look. In truth, it wasn't any different than looks he'd given Dean before, but he'd been too blind to see their import then.

"You're all mine now, Dean." Dean's dick leapt to attention, and that was going to cause problems in the future. Cas was perpetually bossy. "I'm going to fuck you now." It was the tone of voice, Dean thought as his dick throbbed. Stupid dick, had a mind of its own. "I am going to mark you inside, like I have on your skin and on your ribs. As you already have for me, because I am all yours."

Dean swallowed hard. Romantic and nasty both. "You better do that soon if you expect me to last."

Cas shook his head. "No, we will do this slowly."

Dean groaned.

Cas was true to his word, preparing him way longer than was necessary, but Dean had to admit that was a good thing as he cursed up a storm at Cas's first slow thrust inside him. Sweat broke out on his skin. God, Cas could do anything to him right now, he was flat on his back with his legs wrapped awkwardly around his angel lover's hips and the same angel lover's dick in his ass. He found Cas's eyes with his own before he resorted to full out panic.

His jaw went a bit slack at the adoring look in Cas's eyes and his muscles slowly relaxed. Cas pulled partway out and pushed back in. "Dean," he breathed.

"Yeah, I think I get it now," Dean muttered. His back arched of its own accord as Cas found his prostate. Holy fuck.

Cas moved slowly inside him, setting a pace that was doing its best to drive him mad. Sometimes Cas would stop altogether, buried balls-deep inside him, just to look at Dean, his eyes memorizing each feature he had built up himself after Hell, as if he was reacquainting himself with an old friend.

"You're so beautiful," he'd murmur, and Dean would squirm, flushing, his shifting drawing a gasp or a moan from Cas.

Other times, Cas would push in and lean down to kiss Dean's chest, his neck, his face, whatever he could reach. It was the slowest Dean had ever had sex, but it sure as fuck made him feel adored. Cas had been going so slow that Dean was taken by surprise when Cas suddenly whimpered, shuddered and came inside Dean. Dean's breath caught in his throat. He was so close, if Cas would just touch him…

Cas pulled out as slowly as he'd down everything else. Come trickled out of his ass, and _that_ was an odd sensation, but Dean had other pressing things on his mind.

"Cas! I need, will you just–"

Cas silenced him with a deep kiss. Dean shifted around, trying to rub off on Cas's body, get a little friction from somewhere, but Cas broke the kiss and crawled down the bed to lick a stripe up Dean's dick, then covered his lips around the head.

Dean's eyes rolled back into his head as he came with a shout. An hour of slow fucking, and just one touch set him off. But damn, it felt good, and Cas just took it, swallowing his come and licking his dick clean when he was done. Dean watched, propped up on shaky elbows until he could hold out no more and collapsed back against the pillows.

He let Cas arrange them beneath the covers. He was too boneless to move on his own. He was not too boneless to turn down an epic makeout session, hands wrapped around Cas's neck, Cas's chest pressed to his own.

They'd been going at it long enough that Dean was starting to think he'd be up for a round two soon when a keycard snicked in the lock and Sam opened the door.

Sam stared at them. Dean stared back. Cas, he could feel, was staring at him. "Um," Sam said.

"Cas is staying the night tonight," Dean said. "We're going to fuck again soon, and then there is serious contemplation of manly afterglow basking on the table."

"Well, cool. I'm just going to grab my bag and I'll see you in the morning. Thanks for being under covers this time." Sam grabbed his bag and left in record time.

Dean looked back at Cas, grinning, but sobered at the expression on his face. "Let me guess. You're _not_ staying the night."

"I want to," Cas said quietly.

"You ever heard of delegating?" Dean asked, a note of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"It's not that." Great, now Cas was a little annoyed, too. God, what a pair they were.

"Then what is it? I want you to stay. There's proof against my thigh that you want to stay. What's the damn hold-up?"

"I didn't know you wanted me to stay," Cas snapped back. "You never asked!"

Could it really be that simple? One little question, and Cas's eyes would be fiery with passion instead of anger?

"Cas? Will you stay with me tonight? And every night you're not kicking angel ass in Heaven?"

Apparently it was that simple.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for latvela in deancastiel's [everlasting birthday challenge](http://community.livejournal.com/deancastiel/2807529.html). Special thanks to kel_reiley for the beta! Title from "Hymn #101" by Joe Pug, which will be providing titles to all my fics from now on. Originally posted in April of 2011.


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